Her Eminence, Lady Elphaba Thropp
by Syuveil
Summary: “The men are drunk and on the prowl. They’ve been riled up by that dragon of the magic clock, you know, and are looking for Frex to kill him. The clock said to.” Wicked- Pg 18
1. Chapter 1

Greetings, people of cyberspace and beyond. The greatest author in the world has finally decided to grace the internet with his writing prowess. However, he changed his mind at the last second and couldn't make it, so you guys get me instead. I'm sorry…Anyways, this will be my first foray into the "Wicked" section of fan fiction. I have read both Maguire books several times, listen to the Broadway cast recording multiple times a day, and am currently planning an epic, cross-country road trip to go see the musical on Broadway this summer. Wow, this is a long authors note. I wonder if anybody is still reading this or if they all just skipped down to the story? Hello? Hello?

This story is a blending of book and musical. There's a clever little saying for that, but I can't remember it right now. I own nothing but the story idea and maybe some of the OC's. Unless somebody else has already thought of this. In which case, I apologize. Onwards!!

"_The men are drunk and on the prowl. They've been riled up by that dragon of the magic clock, you know, and are looking for Frex to kill him. The clock said to." Wicked- Pg 18_

* * *

The first thing Frex noticed was the smell. It was a horrible mix of rotten food and decaying earth, the classic signs of an almost abandoned root cellar. The light of the day had been reduced to nothing but a faint memory on the horizon, and Frex wished for nothing more than for this horrible day to be over.

He had lost. Plain and simple as that. He had battled with all his might against the infernal "pleasure faith" for the souls of Rush Margins, and lost. It was all because of that damn clock! It apparently took nothing more than a clever tic-tok beast and a few meager puppets to completely banish his parishioners into the ever burning flame and darkness, away from the greatness of the Unnamed God.

Over the course of 24 hours, Frex had abandoned his child-heavy wife, marched numerous miles over harsh territory, been unforgivably embarrassed by an infernal…machine, been beaten by his congregation with absolutely no remorse, and to top it all off, this widow expected him to hide like a scared little child in this…this filth?

Unforgivable!

Frex straightened up slightly at this final indignation. He was Brother Frexspar, seventh son of a seventh son! He was a unionist minister in the service of the Unnamed God, and descended from six ministers in a row! He had been beaten, bloodied, and bruised by his own church! But damn it all if he was going to spend the night cowering under a potato sack in this muck and grime while his beautiful Melena brought forth his first son into the world.

Without another word, Frex turned on his heel and began the long march back to Wend Hardings. When the widow turned around to usher the man into relative safety, all she saw was a glimpse of Frex disappearing into the gloom.

"Fool of a man!" the woman cried out. "You'll be dead and hanging before the morrow sun rises! Dead, you hear?!"

Her frantic shouts chilled Frex to his very core, and sent un-Godly shivers racing up and down his spine. But his mind was made up, and may the Unnamed God be with the man who stood between him and his beloved tonight.

* * *

Melena screamed into the night. So help her, she would murder that man for doing this to her. These were her last thoughts before finally accepting the beautiful darkness, and the relief it offered to her.

* * *

The cold was harsh and biting, his bruises already burning and screaming to stop, turning the normally pleasant walk into a forced march of pain and suffering. Gritting his teeth, Frex pressed ever onwards, determined not to let the fools that had formed into a drunken mob catch him or Melena on this darkest of nights.

Stopping for a moment by a twisted hawthorn tree, Frex leaned against the cool bark to catch his breath. His mind began to wander, going over the previous nights events in his head, going over his failure again and again and again…

Frex awoke with a start. He realized in a panic that he had drifted off while leaning against the tree, his body and mind completely spent. His head spinning, Frex tried to get up and hurry onwards, but realized that something was wrong. He couldn't move. He shouldn't have been that tired. Straining with all his willpower, Frex fought back from the brink of unconsciousness, forcing his senses to adjust to the gloom of the night.

He was tied up. Heavy rope had been bound around his hands and feet, and a gag shoved into his mouth. He was standing on some sort of platform…

With a heavy heart, Frex realized that he was back in Rush Margins. The mob had caught him. He heard murmuring and the occasional cough, but beyond that, the night was silent. The only light was provided by various torches held aloft by the drunken masses, causing an eerie glow to be cast upon the tied up minister.

"Hang him!"

The cry went out, slowly at first, then louder and louder as more of the mob picked up on the death chant.

"Hang him! Hang him! Hang him!"

Frex cried out for the last time in silent prayer. "By your holy and terrible power, may whatever grace and favor be given me be passed unto my child. Let them not suffer in this world as I have."

As a hooded man stepped forward, Frex's eyes landed upon the woman who had offered him shelter in the root cellar only hours earlier. Oh, what he would give to go back and accept that offer now!

The woman merely smiled and called out to him. Her voice seemed to carry above the crowds murderous chanting, as if it was intended only for the doomed man.

"I told you that you would hang by the morrow. And Old Mother Yackle is always right."

A sudden fall, a sharp crack, and a last cry of remorse, and Brother Frexspar was violently taken from this plane of existence.

At the same moment, Melena gave a final scream and a certain young green girl was brought forth into this cruel world. She cocked her head, as if listening to the screams of her parents, unhampered by distance, blend together for one last cry into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Holy…you guys are amazing. 69 hits, 6 reviews, and 4 alerts. That may not sound like a lot to some people, but that's a new personal record for me. Thank you for taking an interest in my work. Especially the people who left me reviews. Lady Tigelaar, musicfan1207, HaChosenOne, boston blue, Fae2135, and Eowyn-Faith. You guys are all in my heart now. I wasn't planning on updating this so soon, but what the heck? I'll try my best.

Remember now…I own nothing. Just a humble author, scribbling his ideas down to be judged by the world.

* * *

The first rays of sunlight filtered down through the cracked window, turned a sickly quadling-brown color by the weeks of obvious neglect. The whole cabin stunk with the essence of despair, an almost bittersweet fragrance that hung heavy in the dusty air, immediately enveloping whoever dared to brave its darkened depths.

Melena laid sprawled out in bed, staring with an unblinking passion at a particular knot in the wooden ceiling. She hadn't moved from this spot for…how long had it been? Time held no meaning for her anymore, and she wondered once again if it ever would.

She worked hard to force down a harsh laugh. It was so beautifully ironic, that time meant nothing to her anymore when it had been a servant of time, a mere clock, that had caused all this pain and suffering in the first place.

A shadow passed over her now haggard features, aging the young woman far beyond her few mortal years. The previous weeks events tumbled haphazardly through her minds eye, a shattered kaleidoscope of broken images and sounds. How she had suffered through the hours of mind numbing pain, only to pass out from exhaustion at the very end of it all. How those three wicked women had shoved the newly born cabbage at her unconscious body before taking what few valuables Melena had managed to bring with her from home and fled for whatever distant hilltop or cave bottom they could find. How Melena had been awoken hours later by some decrepit old crone, muttering under her breathe about a clock and a puppet and some sort of public trial…

Melena inhaled sharply. That was one image that played clearly over and over in her head, no matter how much she wished that particular vision would fade.

* * *

_The old woman simply stood there, shuffling her feet uncomfortably and wringing her hands, gazing at anything in the small cabin but the strange green atrocity or Melena's harsh and unbelieving stare. _

_Melena gasped. Opened her mouth, then closed it again. The baby laying on the table next to her mimicked her every movement with a mechanical calculability, opening and closing that vicious little jaw while showing no pleasure in the act whatsoever. _

_Melena finally managed to find her voice, though it seemed broken and pathetic when released into the air. "W-what did you say?"_

_The old woman sighed again. "You heard me the first time, and you damn well know it. The drunken masses that make up this pathetic excuse for a village banded together last night against a common enemy, that is, your beloved Frexspar. Last I heard, he was being dragged off to the gallows."_

_Melena nodded once before completely collapsing into a shuddering heap upon the bed. Viewing this from her table top vantage point, Elphaba glared at the strange woman with a otherworldly and knowing growl that seemed to say, "Tormenting that woman is my purpose in this world. You have no right to come and take that away from me."_

_Seeing this as the perfect opportunity for escape, the old woman turned and fled from the silent gasps and screams of pain that were now emanating from the former ministers lodge, armed with the juicy new gossip that Frex had fathered a green demon child on the same night of his death._

* * *

Melena sighed to herself once more before tearing her gaze away from the knot in the ceiling and against the cries of her protesting body, dragged herself out of bed. She couldn't stay there all winter or else she would starve. Herself and the baby…

She gasped in a slight panic. She had forgotten about the baby! In a daze, Melena whirled around to face the basket where Elphaba had once laid. Empty.

Fighting down the scream that was quickly rising in her throat, Melena was about to rush out the door when a small tinkling sound reached her ears. Bending over to look under the table shot a stream of fire though out her body, but Melena ignored it and continued her journey to the floor.

There, sitting on the floor and rolling around a green glass bottle, sat the missing Elphaba. She watched with an intense focus and apparent fascination at the emerald bottle, and the various shadows it cast upon the dusty floor as it spun around in a shimmering storm of light and color.

Laughing in relief and delight, Melena scooped her wayward daughter into her arms before realizing with a jolt that she now felt a sort of odd affection towards her green daughter. Without realizing it, the death of her husband had caused an unbreakable bond to form between mother and daughter.

Elphaba stiffened at her touch at first, but upon realizing that Melena meant her no harm, greatly relaxed and started reaching again towards her emerald plaything.

Setting her child down on the bed, Melena realized in an instant that there was no way to protect her baby by herself out here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by small minded munchkin mobs. Gazing with affection upon her green daughter, who had managed to grasp the bottle again and was now working furiously to tear off the paper inscription on the front, Melena pulled out an empty suitcase and began to haphazardly load up her meager possessions_. _

There was only one place in the world that could now offer the Thropp women any sort of protection. Melena had decided to head home. They were going back. Back to Colwen Grounds.

* * *

Well, there we go. It's a little bit shorter than the first chapter, but it really starts to establish Melena in a motherly role. Italics were a flashback, just in case anybody was confused. If anybody starts acting out of character, please let me know. Or let me know if I completely missed the point of Wicked. Heck, just feel free to talk to me at all. Please?

It was drawn to my attention last time that there aren't a lot of guys writing in this particular fandom. Is that true? Am I really that much of an oddity? Cause if so, then awesome! I'm facing unknown waters here. Onwards, my fellow readers and writers! Read from ya soon!


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